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CHAPTER NINE

BELLE

T he carriage jolted as the pegasuses surged forward. At first, their gait was steady, measured—a canter that shook the wheels. Soon, the pace quickened. Muscles rippled beneath their gleaming white coats. Their nostrils flared as they leaned into the harnesses. The carriage swayed with each stride as their momentum built and their wings caught air.

In most places, pegasuses needed a longer runway to lift off with carriages. A clever young inventor from Evergrove had solved that problem with a lightweight, collapsible glider frame that could attach to the sides of the carriage. Made from tightly woven plant fibers and reinforced with thin but sturdy wooden ribs, the frame created additional lift by catching the air as the pegasuses flapped their wings.

They ran faster and faster still. The wind whipped through the open windows, catching my hair and tugging it loose. Their hooves left the ground even as they kept racing. We were lifting, no longer just striking the earth, but gliding over it.

I barely noticed the takeoff. My attention was fixed on the figure leading the charge. Adom.

We weren't flying high, just above the treetops. Adom's tawny hair gleamed in the moonlight, like he was the son of Solara. He was a blur of raw power, darting ahead of the carriage. Sometimes on all fours. Sometimes upright on his powerful legs. His mane of golden hair whipped wildly, a streak of brilliance against the twilight sky. His movements were fluid, feline. Each bound and stride exuded a controlled ferocity that was utterly mesmerizing.

Queen Indira sat rigid beside me, her sharp features marred by a scowl. She twisted the veil in her hands. The useless scrap of fabric wrinkled further with every angry tug. I couldn’t bring myself to care. My world had narrowed to the sight outside the window.

Adom’s head snapped to the side, his nostrils flaring like he caught a scent. He slowed, scanning the landscape with those piercing eyes before surging forward again. My chest tightened as I watched him. He was hunting. Protecting. Leading.

And it was all for me.

The power in his every move, the ferocity of his gaze as he searched for danger—it was all directed toward ensuring my safety.

He was magnificent. There was no denying it. A blend of man and beast in the most captivating way. Not beautiful, no. Beauty was too tame a word for someone like him. He was visceral, a force of nature that commanded attention and respect.

Heat rose in my cheeks. The beat of my pulse was visible at the underside of my wrist. It thundered in my ears, faster than the pegasuses’ gallop. I tried to remind myself of the circumstances, of the farce we were playing out, but the logic was fleeting.

Watching Adom, his mane catching the light of the moons, his body coiled and ready to strike—it was impossible not to feel something. No, not something. I felt everything.

“This isn’t a problem,” Queen Indira declared, her tone making it clear she was convincing herself as much as me. “Once we find Charlotte, we’ll simply swap you two back. He’s a shifter. He won’t notice. Animals think all fairies look alike.”

Indignation bubbled to the surface. Prince Adom had been nothing but attentive and sharp in the brief time I had known him. Beast or not, he was no fool. His intelligence gleamed behind those piercing eyes. His loyalty was evident in every protective stride he took. He'd even threatened to maim his friend for daring to sneak into my window—something I should probably be thinking a bit more on, along with the fact that Jorge knew I wasn't Charlotte. But, really, why when I'd much rather look at Adom's backside as he tore across the countryside?

To hear the queen reduce him to something so base and unthinking made my stomach twist. I clutched the gown and his wedding suit tighter. It was my gown now.

I'd designed it. I'd labored over it. Charlotte hadn't cared one stitch for it.

The fabric pressed against my arms like armor. Adom deserved better than a queen who would manipulate him and a princess who would abandon him. He deserved?—

“They’ve found traces of Charlotte," said the queen. "They should have her by morning. Until then, stay away from the prince. Do you understand?”

I didn’t respond.

The pegasuses touched down in a gallop, their hooves striking the earth with a rhythmic thrum that gradually softened as the carriage slowed to a smooth roll. Pridehaven came alive outside the carriage window. It was a far cry from the woods and gardens of Evergrove.

The capital city bustled with life as shifters padded alongside fairies. Humans mingled with other beings I could barely name. A dragon trotted past with an ogre perched atop its back.

Glass spires reached toward the heavens, catching the eternal twilight of the equatorial suns and reflecting it in every imaginable hue. Each tower gleamed in harmony with the pale wood frames that supported them. Vines and blooming flowers clung to the buildings, their vibrant purples, yellows, and greens cascading over balconies like waterfalls. It felt as though the city had grown out of the ground itself, nature and civilization entwined.

Banners in deep crimson and gold draped across doorways and balconies, adorned with the crest of the Hunter’s Eclipse. Vendors lined the avenues, calling out their wares: moonstone trinkets, eclipse pastries shaped like crescents, and ribbons of every shade meant to mark allegiance during the Convergence Games—an event that united the kingdoms in competition and glory.

The streets were crowded with people, carriages, and contraptions made of gears and steel. As our carriage rolled through the cobbled streets, they all parted. Conversations stalled, and footsteps paused mid-stride. The crowd parted like a wound opening. They stepped aside quickly, their gazes downcast as the Beast Prince prowled past.

Adom hadn’t bothered to clean off the troll gore streaking his arms and tunic. His mane, wild and tangled with streaks of crimson, framed his face, casting sharp shadows under his golden eyes. He looked more beast than man, an apex predator surveying a world too fragile to hold him.

His growl rumbled low as he surveyed the crowd. His gaze swept over the streets like he was still searching for enemies, threats in his kingdom. There was something about the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. I couldn't tell if it was defiance or guilt.

The journey through the main street was swift. With no obstructions blocking our way, we made it to Pridehaven Palace in no time. The structure rose like a living monument at the heart of the city. Walls of polished sandstone shone golden in the moonlight. The castle’s spires were capped with domes of iridescent crystal, as though Avarix had gifted pieces of himself to crown the Lioness Queen’s domain.

The carriage rolled to a stop, the heavy creak of the wheels settling as silence blanketed the air. My fingers twitched against the fabric in my arms, anticipation and anxiety warring within me.

The door swung open to reveal Prince Adom. Without a word, he reached for my hand. I gave it to him. His grip was firm but careful, as though he feared I might break under his strength. His claws grazed my palm as he guided me out of the carriage.

He turned to Colson, who had stepped forward to assist Queen Indira. “Show the queen to her quarters.”

“Thank you for your security and hospitality, Your Highness. The princess and I will retire immediately for a night’s rest.” Queen Indira's hand fluttered in a come-hither motion at me.

Prince Adom didn’t let go of my hand. “The princess is coming with me. She'll sleep in the queen's quarters.”

Queen Indira faltered. Her practiced composure cracked. Her lips parted in protest, but no words came. She twisted the useless veil in her hands until the garment tore.